


even birds need to learn how to fly

by Phoenix_Allura (Artemis_Autumn_Marie)



Series: Nix's Thominho Week 2018 [4]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Caregiver Minho, Hurt Thomas (Maze Runner), Little Thomas, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Thominho Week, Thominho Week 2018, little!Thomas, no maze AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:24:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Autumn_Marie/pseuds/Phoenix_Allura
Summary: Day Four of Thominho: No Maze AU. I also ended up including a 'Littles are known' AU, because I don't know why.





	even birds need to learn how to fly

Minho ran. Not because he was in any danger, but because it was fun. If you asked his superiors, they'd say he was training. But running through these streets, the streets that had once been his home, wasn't training.  
Then someone crashed into him. He spun and grabbed them, keeping them from falling and figuring out who they were at the same time. Brown hair, brown eyes, a good seven inches shorter than Minho, younger too, blood running down their face, coughing up blood, holding their ribs, bruises visible everywhere- they didn't look good.  
"I'm- I'm immune-" They gasped out. "Coupla Cranks found out-" They doubled over, coughing. So they'd been attacked, beaten.  
"I'm taking you to headquarters." Minho decided. He hauled them up, slinging their arm over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around their waist, careful to avoid their ribs.  
"Can you walk like this?" He asked the stranger.  
"I should be fine." They wheezed out. They didn't sound fine, but Minho decided against pointing that out. Slowly, far slower than Minho would have liked, they got to HQ.  
"I need a doctor over here!" He yelled.  
"Do you injure yourself, Minho?" Dr. Jazlyn asked, walking over. Then she saw the stranger. "What happened?" Their head dropped and rolled onto Minho's chest.  
"They're a Munie, got attacked by Cranks. Broken ribs, coughing up blood, head injury, bruises everywhere, and I don't know what under their clothes."  
"Get a stretcher over here. Prep a surgery room. We've got compromised lungs, broken ribs." Dr. Jazlyn started barking orders. "And who knows what else." She turned back to Minho. "Go clean up. We'll take them from here. Do you know their name?" Mute, Minho shook his head. The kid might die- when had Minho started thinking of them as a kid?- and no one would remember their name. He didn't even know their name. Minho wandered to his quarters. He was lucky enough to have two beds and a shower. The second bed was empty, had been since- No, he wouldn't even think about it. After he showered and changed, Minho stared at his dresser. The kid would need clothes if they survived. Minho was a bit bigger, taller and broader around the shoulders, but his stuff would work. He pulled out his softest shirt and pants. He put them in his backpack and headed back downstairs, to the medical level. It was on the first floor because if it wasn't, more people would be dead now. Clint stopped him.  
"Hey, you brought in the kid, right?" Minho nodded. "Well, the surgery's going fine, and they'll be in a cast for a while- I don't know how they got anywhere with that broken leg. They kicked me out cause I haven't slept in hours, by the way, not to tell you things. You won't be able to see them tonight, Minho. Go eat something and sleep."  
"I grabbed some clothes out of the dresser." Minho found himself saying, gesturing to the backpack.  
"Give them to Nina, she'll see that the kid gets them."  
"How old do you think they are?" Minho asked.  
"I'd say they're fifteen at most. Can't be older than that. Well, I gotta go get some sleep. See you tomorrow, Minho." Clint slapped him on the shoulder and left. Minho found Nina and dropped off the bag, then went back to his room. It was still early, but his run had gone on longer today, and while the kid hadn't been heavy- almost too light, like most street kids were- it had been tiring carrying them here. He could go to the mess hall, but it was usually full and very loud. The dinner rush would have just ended, so Minho decided to risk it.  
Sure enough, there were only a few stragglers and the cooks left. Minho got some food- today was spaghetti- and found an empty corner. He didn't really know anyone else here, despite having been with the group since he was fifteen. Two years. Two years and he knew only a handful of people.  
"Hey, Minho." Another teenager who had joined up, Gally. "You brought the kid in, right? There are some nasty rumours going around what's happened to them. We're looking at broken bones that didn't heal right, starvation, and," Gally lowered his voice. "And rape."  
"I can say starvation is soft yes. They were light, but I didn't think anything of it, because most street kids are light." Minho said. "I can believe the broken bones- somehow the kid got to me and then walked, with assistance, on a broken leg." Minho wasn't even going to think about the rape portion. If the kid had been raped, they had no way to know unless it was recent. And anyway, there was a chance they wouldn't want to tell anyone.  
"I'm going to bed." Minho stood.  
"Minho, if it's true, the kid will need some help. They might not stay here, either," Gally said. I know, Minho wanted to scream. I know that. Everyone here needs help anyway. We deal the best we can.  
"We stayed, didn't we?" Minho walked away, heading for his room. He didn't have the energy for this right now.  
"Wow, Minho, you're a heavier sleeper than I am." Clint sounded amused.  
"Only when I'm tired." Minho threw a pillow at him. Not the most mature thing to do, but he was seventeen, so there.  
"I know. Yesterday was a mess. Get out of bed and get dressed. The kid's going to wake up soon and we want to them have a familiar face. You can eat with the kid." Minho sat up, stretching.  
"I'll be out in a minute." He changed quickly. He wouldn't go on a run today; he had the feeling he wouldn't be leaving the kid's room for a while.  
"I'll take you to their room. They've got a private one, lucky kid." Clint said. It wasn't a long walk, and soon Minho was standing in front of Dr. Jazlyn.  
"Minho, Clint. They just woke up, haven't said anything yet. We're hoping you could help with that." Minho nodded. He'd expected something of the sort.  
"Yeah, I'll talk to them. What are the wrist if their injuries?" Minho asked.  
"Well, with their ribs now back in place, realigned with titanium plates, I'd have to say their leg. It's broken in three places. They'll be in a cast for a while."  
"Well, I'll go in and see them now. Clint said I'd be eating with them?" He asked politely.  
"Yes. Clint's going to get the food himself. One tray of only soft foods, Clint." Dr. Jazlyn glared at Clint as he began walking away. Minho opened the door and stepped into the white-walled room; it seemed that even here, in the most unconventional of places, the hospital stereotype was upheld. Maybe because before the Flares, this had been a research hospital, then an old folks' home, a hospital, a 'hotel hospital' and then after the Flares, their headquarters.  
"Hey," Minho said, then winced when he realized how loud his voice was. The kid had been bleeding from the head, who knew what sensory issue they were having right now. "I'm Minho."  
"Thomas. You're the guy who brought me here, right?" Thomas's voice was raspy.  
"I am. Have they told you...?"  
"About my injuries? Yes. Broken ribs, fixed in surgery with titanium plates, broken leg, three places, in a cast, head wound, bruises everywhere, sprained wrist."  
'They didn't tell me all that." Minho said. "I'm impressed you managed to get to me without collapsing. How far did you walk on that leg?"  
"Four blocks, I think. And I ran most of the way. Hey, want a running partner when I get out of this cast?"  
"If you can keep up," Minho said.  
"Oh, I'll be able to keep up. Dr. Jazlyn said you're part of an organization, but didn't say much more. Are you WICKED?" Minho was surprised. Street kids usually didn't know about WICKED.  
"We're not WICKED. We don't often actively fight them- we're a bunch of the few adults who are Immune, mostly doctors and such, and Immune teenagers looking for a way off the streets. I run missions sometimes, a way to earn my keep, but there are other ways to do that. You've met Clint?" Thomas nodded. "He's training to be a medic. He runs missions, but not as often as me. He doesn't go solo either." Minho was rambling, and he knew it.  
"That's interesting. I might like that." Thomas mused.  
"Well, you'll have to heal first. No one will begrudge you the time you spend healing if you do stay. We're a bit of a sanctuary for Immunes." Minho would be running double missions for the next month or two to pay of what debt Thomas owed. He had none anyway; only his food and board, and he'd run five missions last month to get ahead. "Clint should be here soon, he's bringing us breakfast."  
"I'm not sure how much I can eat," Thomas said, and Minho eyed him carefully, trying to gauge how thin he was.  
"You don't have to eat all of it. How long were you on the streets?"  
"I have a few vague memories of my mother, but she was infected. I ran away when I was four at her urging. Someone was going to try and take me away. That's all I know."  
"So, eleven years, give or take?"  
"Yeah." Minho hadn't been on the streets that long, and not that young. His older sister had taken care of him after their parents became Cranks, then she was killed when he was ten. He'd had five years on the streets.  
"I joined up at your age, two years ago. I had a good group before that, spent five years on the streets."  
"Delivery!" Clint called, knocking the door open with his hip, balancing one tray in each hand. Thomas's tray had applesauce and a smoothie. Minho got an egg, orange juice, and toast. Minho ate quickly, but Thomas was more hesitant, eating about a third of the applesauce before trying the smoothie. He ended up eating all the applesauce and drinking half the smoothie, and that he set aside for later. They kept talking, Thomas's hands constantly moving.  
"Hey, you want to roll some bandages or something? They always need that done," Minho said. He knew the feeling of needing something to keep your hands occupied.  
"I could make bandages," Thomas said. "I had to learn on the streets."  
"I'll go grab Clint." He didn't have to go far. He told Clint what was going on and soon returned with strips of cloth for Thomas to work with.  
"So, what kind of missions do you run?" Thomas asked.  
"Most of them are supply missions. The rest are guarding a transport or something like that." Minho said. They weren't really exciting unless you got in a shootout with Cranks or WICKED tried to stop you. Both were rare. But he wasn't telling Thomas that.  
"So, are you really fifteen or did we all assume wrong?"  
"I'm sixteen. I know I look younger than my age." Thomas answered, rolling bandages into a tight ball. Minho didn't know how he did it. "Maybe when my wrist is healed, I could fix up some clothes or something. Even the doctors have tattered clothing." Minho began rethinking how long he'd run double missions. If Thomas was willing to work and did while laid up, that changed things. Dr. Jazlyn poked her head in the door.  
"Doctor, this is Thomas. Thomas, this is Dr. Jazlyn." Minho made the introductions.  
"It's nice to meet you, Doctor," Thomas said politely.  
"I can say that it's nice to properly meet you. I'm glad you're feeling well enough to sit up. You won't be able to get up for a few days, though." Thomas started to protest. "Your lungs need time to heal. We had to stitch them up in two places. Maybe later this week we'll see about a wheelchair. I'm sure Minho would be happy to give you a tour." Minho nodded. He was, at this point in time, the only person Thomas knew. He wasn't going to say he was trusted. They hadn't known each other long enough for that.  
~*~  
"Hey Thomas, Dr. Jazlyn says you can leave the hospital today. Not permanently, but for the day." Minho had been on a three-week mission, left two weeks after bringing Thomas in. "Maybe I can take you to the greenhouse."  
"You have a greenhouse?" Thomas asked, looking up from the clothes he was mending.  
"Yeah. When this was an actual hospital, the greenhouse was where doctors went on their breaks, mostly, and patients used it to relax. They grew most of their food, so the patients would have fresh produce. We still use it today. We've got apples, cherries, blueberries, strawberries, tomatoes, potatoes, pumpkins, squash, zucchini, beans, carrots, raspberries, blackberries, wheat, corn, rice, rye, and way more." Thomas's eyes widened. It was hard to come across fresh produce unless you were in a place that had been cold before the Flares. "Come on, let's get you in your chair." Minho helped Thomas up from the bed and then walked him across the room to his wheelchair. Thomas insisted on walking whenever he could, and to Minho's surprise, Dr. Jazlyn had okayed it, saying that it would keep his leg muscles from completely atrophying.  
"Can I walk around when we get there?" Thomas tilted his head back to look at Minho.  
"Not for too long." Minho didn't tell him they were eating there; Thomas might actually smile for once. Minho hadn't seen him smile, and neither had Clint. It was kind of concerning. He was off the streets, gaining the weight he needed to gain (though very slowly, his ribs and hipbones still looked like mountains compared to his stomach), learning Spanish, getting work done, he was safe, had people to support him. The surprise might help him.  
"Thomas, have you met Gally yet?" Minho asked, spotting him. Thomas scrunched his face up.  
"I think so. We helped each other out. Gally's very protective, I don't think he knows I'm here." Now that he could believe.  
"You wanna talk to him?" Thomas shook his head.  
"Not today."  
"You're gonna have to talk to people other than me and Clint eventually," Minho told him.  
"But what for?" Thomas asked.  
"Don't be cheeky with your elders."  
"You're a year older than me." Thomas rolled his eyes.  
"I'm also the one who decides where you go in this thing," Minho said jokingly.  
They continued through the building to the greenhouse. Minho heard Thomas gasp when he opened the door and looked down quickly to see if something was wrong. There didn't seem to be. Thomas's eyes were wide like he'd never seen this many plants in one place. He probably hadn't. They weren't in a total wasteland, but you didn't find weeds growing randomly and grass everywhere. You had to try and force things to grow unless in a specialized environment.  
"Where do you want to go first? There are cherries and blueberries to pick, and we still have some strawberries." They staggered the planting of everything on purpose, so they'd have something of each all year round.  
"Strawberries first," Thomas said. The greenhouse attendant assigned to strawberries handed them each a pint basket. Thomas stood on his own and walked slowly between two rows, so Minho took the next two and kept on eye on him as they picked. He didn't complain once, though the rows were long and his leg had to be hurting. Minho found himself impressed yet again by Thomas. Minho handed Thomas his pint to hold while they moved to blueberries and did it again. Minho was glad the arrangement he had was to bring half of what they picked to the kitchens. They wouldn't be able to eat all this, not when they were going to pick cherries too. And there was no way Minho was letting Thomas climb a ladder. But Thomas perked up when he saw the ladders like he was five or something.  
"You are not climbing the ladders, Thomas." Minho knew the attendants within earshot were watching. No one knew anything about Thomas, they knew only what they needed to about Minho, and they knew even less about their relationship. Based on Thomas's reaction, combined with his size and stature, Minho thought that he might be a Little. That, or he was finally relaxing enough to let his guard down and act a little like the kid he'd never gotten to be. Oh wait, that was the same thing in Thomas's place. No one even got tested anymore, even though they had Classifiers here. Minho had his suspicions about himself and his friends. Maybe he would get officially tested and make Thomas do it too. Minho pushed Thomas up to a good spot and moved a few trees over to climb a ladder. When he looked back literally a minute and a half later, he saw Thomas attempting to climb the shucking ladder. He made it halfway up before falling, and when Minho reached him, he had tears in his eyes, whether from the pain or because he was slipping into Littlespace he didn't know. Maybe both.  
"Come on, Thomas, back to your chair." Minho picked Thomas up easily. "That's what you get for trying to climb a ladder with a broken leg, kiddo. You want to wheel yourself over by me? There are plenty of cherries under the leaves on my tree." Thomas nodded slowly, following Minho. Minho climbed the ladder and dropped a cherry on Thomas's head, getting his attention.  
"Open your mouth," Minho ordered, then laughed. Thomas looked like a bird. He tossed a cherry into Thomas's mouth. "Remember to spit out the pit." He didn't drop any more cherries- that might have gotten them in trouble- but he did continue to try and make Thomas laugh with horrible jokes and his sarcasm, which he was skilled at. When they had picked their two pints, Minho climbed down the ladder and jumped three rungs, making Thomas glare at him.  
"I don't have a broken leg, bird." And when had Minho gotten so attached to Thomas? Why had he allowed it? Was it because Thomas didn't have anyone else, didn't know anyone here? Was it because Thomas reminded him of...? Or was Thomas just that likable? He was sarcastic, witty, cute, but he never smiled or laughed, never joked. He was smart, that was clear, but why was Minho so strangely attached to him? When had he started genuinely liking him?  
"Come on, little bird, I've got a surprise for you." He led Thomas to the designated picnic spot. Well, if he continued like that, he'd gain some much-needed muscle- Thomas looked as though he couldn't lift a fly. Minho grabbed the basket he'd hidden away, having been allowed in the kitchen to make sandwiches. Thomas eased himself to the ground, more careful of his leg now than he had been earlier. Luckily, Minho had thought to bring some painkillers.  
"So, what do you think of the greenhouse?" Minho asked.  
"It's bigger than I thought it would be," Thomas said. "And everything's so pretty!" He grinned with that statement, and Minho grinned right back at him.  
"Well, now you get to eat some of the fruits of your labor." Minho maintained a straight face until Thomas started laughing. They laughed themselves into silence, and Minho grinned inwardly. This day alone was showing him what Thomas could be, if this world had been kinder. If the Flares hadn't happened, maybe. Laughing, smiling, and joking, lighthearted and happy. He would still be smart- he would always be Minho's smart little bird- And there was that nickname again. Thomas didn't seem to mind, so Minho wouldn't think about it now.  
"I made sandwiches." Minho pulled them out of the basket.  
"So you're telling me that you, Minho, know how to make a sandwich? I thought the only thing street kids could make was a fire," Thomas joked.  
"If I really put my mind to it, I can also make a pie," Minho said.  
"Do it. Make me a pie."  
"I will if you can beat me in a race," Minho promised. "Not right now, but when you're healed- completely healed, been through P.T. and everything. And have been running long enough that you're sure your legs will hold up the whole race." Thomas nodded.  
"That's fair enough. Can't have me collapsing on you again, right?"  
"You didn't collapse the first time." Minho handed Thomas a sandwich. "Ham and cheese, I didn't know what you'd want. Anyway, you didn't collapse. You ran into me, we ran into each other, rather, and then you walked with my support with broken ribs, a head wound, and your leg broken. That's pretty impressive, Thomas." Thomas shrugged, biting into his sandwich.  
"It's been so long since I've had actual non-moldy bread." He breathed out. "Thank you, Minho. And it's not that impressive. I was just trying to survive."  
"Most people would have given up even trying long before you did, Tomboy," Minho told him seriously. "I'm glad you kept trying, though. You're the first friend I've had in a while that I haven't actively pushed away." Gally was there, and so was Clint, but sometimes the memories, the ones with... Minho couldn't even think the name. Sometimes those memories were overwhelming. Thomas hadn't been there. Minho would tell him, in time, what had happened. He'd tell him everything if they got the chance. If they were close enough. If this went the way Minho wanted it to. Nothing ever did, but maybe this once. Thomas had finished his sandwich quickly, and Minho was glad. He needed to eat more.  
"Want another? I made more." Minho offered him the basket, but Thomas shook his head.  
"Not if I plan on eating some fruit with it. That sandwich just about filled me up." Of course it had. Thomas had been on a soft food diet for weeks, this being the first week he could eat solid food.  
"Well, that's okay," Minho said. "As long as you're full." Because if Thomas was feeling full, making him eat more would only make him throw up. Minho certainly didn't want that, as it would ruin a lovely morning. They finished their meal by tossing the fruit into each other's mouths, seeing who could throw the best. Thomas won and his happy cheer at the end made Minho want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the world. But, Minho reminded himself, Thomas was almost an adult. He'd spent more years on the streets than anyone he knew, and he didn't need a knight in shining armor. But wouldn't it be nice to know you had someone who would help you, no questions asked? (Okay, Thomas would ask a lot of questions, something they had learned the hard way, and Minho might be a bit too sarcastic to be a knight in shining armor, but they'd make it work.)  
"Minho?" Thomas's voice was quiet.  
"Yeah, Thomas?" Minho looked at him, and all he saw was wide brown eyes. If Thomas was a Little, then he'd fallen into headspace fast.  
"Where's the bathroom?"  
"Oh, right. It's too far for you to walk alone. How's your leg feeling anyway? I have painkillers in here somewhere." Minho dug them out quickly and handed them to Thomas. Minho stood up and dusted himself off. "I'll walk you there. Do you think you'll need the chair?" Thomas shook his head and Minho helped him up, taking almost all his weight on the left side. "This stuff should be fine, the attendants know not to touch it and almost no one else comes in here," Minho said when Thomas glanced back at their picnic. They walked to the bathroom- on the other side of the greenhouse, great job Minho, and both went, just to be safe. Walking back, Thomas was visibly tired, so Minho decided to cut their day short.  
"You want to pack it up and go drop the leftover fruit off at the kitchens, bird?" Minho asked softly.  
"That sounds great," Thomas said.  
"What do you think of getting a Classification test?" Minho blurted.  
"A Classification test?" Thomas frowned. Right. He wouldn't know what they were.  
"Yeah, like, you're tested to see if you're Little, a Caregiver, or neutral," Minho explained. "You've-you've been acting pretty Little today, Thomas."  
"My head has felt a bit foggy," Thomas said, and Minho sighed. That was one of the signs you were on the edge of your headspace.  
"You wouldn't have been Little on the streets. Maybe now that you're safe and well-fed your body recognizes that it can be Little?" Minho suggested. "I can get tested too. People don't really get tested anymore, but we have a few former Classification officers, and we do actually have three Little-Caregiver pairs." Thomas shrugged.  
"Sure. That doesn't sound too bad." He agreed after a moment of thought.  
"I'll tell Dr. Jazlyn when we get back," Minho promised. If he was right, Thomas fell at four or five- the age he had run away, and he himself was a Caregiver or a neutral with Caregiver leanings. EIther way, he supposed it would be his job to take care of Thomas. Thomas nodded again, settling into his chair.  
"Hey, Min?"  
"Yeah?" Hadn't they done this once already?  
"Why do you call me bird?"  
"Because earlier, when I threw the cherry down to you, you acted like a bird," Minho explained, rubbing his neck.  
"That makes more sense than what I was thinking."  
"What were you thinking?"  
"I am not telling you."  
"Why not?"  
"Nope, I'm not going to say anything." Thomas refused to talk about it after that, changing the subject completely. "So we have to give some of the fruit to the kitchens?"  
"Yeah. We didn't eat all of it, and I didn't expect we would. So we'll share with everyone else." Even though one and a half pints each of strawberries, blueberries, and cherries were not enough to feed everyone here.  
"That-"  
"If you say that makes sense again, Thomas, I swear..." Minho threatened jokingly. "You want to wheel yourself or do you want me to push you?"  
"I'll wheel myself," Thomas said.  
"Good way to build up those arms," Minho told him. "Well, if you want me to push you, let me know." They got all the way the kitchens before Thomas asked for help, and Minho was glad. He'd had a hard time asking for help after five years on the streets. It must be even harder for Thomas, alone all those years, to ask for help. Minho got Thomas, already half-asleep, back into his bed and went to find Dr. Jazlyn.  
~*~  
"Come on, little bird. You were so eager to walk before, why the shyness now?" Minho laughed as he watched Thomas- now officially his Little, fresh out of his cast- stumbling around. He'd been so eager to walk, but now that his bones were healed, he couldn't seem to. Not without a brace, anyway. His muscles were weak enough that he wouldn't be running for a few months, at least. Thomas hated that.  
"Cause I can't walk!" He protested, looking up at Minho with sad eyes. "Stop making fun of me, Daddy!"  
"Daddy's not making fun, I'm sorry, bird. I know it must be hard for you. Maybe Daddy can help you?" Minho soothed. Thomas nodded, and Minho took his hands, walking with him between the beds. Someone knocked on the door on their third trip.  
"Do you want to help Daddy get the door, bird?" Minho asked. In all honesty, Minho was having more fun with this then he thought he would. While he and Little Thomas were working on walking, and asking for things, and not touching the hot water before Daddy tests it, he and Big Thomas were working on figuring out what they were- friends, boyfriends, or something in between.  
"Yes, Daddy," Thomas said. "I wanna walk by myself."  
"Alright, bird. I'll be right behind you if you fall." Minho said, and Thomas gave him a look. And Minho might die, right now. How could one little boy be so cute? Thomas walked just fine, opening the door and checking who it was.  
"Uncle Gally!" He cheered quietly.  
"Hey, buddy." Gally ruffled Thomas's hair. While big, Thomas didn't get along with Gally very well, but thankfully it didn't translate into his little headspace. "Hey, Minho. Can I talk to you?"  
"Sure. Thomas, can you-" Minho looked at Thomas to find he was already holding one of the rare books Minho had been able to find.  
"I'll read on my bed, Daddy," Thomas promised. "Adults are boring when they talk anyway." With that said, Thomas walked over to his bed and climbed on. Minho chuckled.  
"I have no idea where he gets that from." Gally deadpanned, also watching Thomas. "Minho, they want us to do a supply run. Tomorrow." Minho glanced at Thomas, still reading his book.  
"He just went into his headspace today. I don't think he's coming out of it for a while, and I can't ask it of him."  
"And you don't want to leave him. I get it, Minho. But they're insisting. The two of us, no one else. Thomas likes Clint, right? Couldn't he stay with him, or one of the other Caregivers?"  
"He doesn't know the other Caregivers. He refuses to speak to them, to anyone but Clint, you and I. So he'll have to go to Clint. But I don't know if Clint will be able to take care of him."  
"He'll be fine. Clint's off this week, and the mission shouldn't take more than two days. You could bring Clint up, let him watch for a while and get a feel for it," Gally suggested.  
"Yeah, that's what I'm going to have to do."  
"I'll send Clint up," Gally said. "Hey, Thomas, can I get a hug before I leave?" Thomas got up, still holding the book, and hugged Gally.  
“See you later, Uncle Gally!” With Gally gone and Thomas reading, Minho had a minute to sit and think.  
“Daddy, I’m done reading!” Thomas told him.  
“Did you finish that whole book all by yourself?” At Thomas’s nod, Minho continued. “Look at my big boy, reading already! What am I gonna do when he starts writing?” Thomas giggled.  
“You’re gonna read it, Daddy!”  
“Oh, I’m so glad I have a little bird who gives me answers!” Minho said.  
“Dessert is before dinner, Daddy,” Thomas tried.  
“No, Tom, it’s not.” Thomas pouted. “Thomas, I need to tell you something.” Minho began. “Tomorrow, Uncle Gally and I have to leave. We’re going on a mission.”  
“Daddies and uncles should take their little boys with them!” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, the way Minho did when being stern with him.  
“I can’t take you. You’ll be spending a couple days with Uncle Clint and Aunt Lizzy.” Minho didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of her before. Lizzy was Newt’s sister, and therefore his sister by default. Sorry, he didn't make the rules. She adored Thomas when he was Little. “You remember Aunt Lizzy, right?”  
“Yeah! She lives away from here, and comes to visit! Is she going to visit me?”  
“She is. She’s bringing some supplies and because it takes a while to get back home, she’s spending the week.” It was true, though Minho hadn’t said anything to Lizzy about watching his little bird.  
“I see her! I see her!” Thomas had rushed to the window. Minho followed, noting that Thomas was limping on his left leg.  
“There she is. Shall we go greet her before your checkup?” For the first month or so, Thomas was going to have weekly checkups, to make sure the muscles were doing what they were supposed to do.  
“Yes!”  
“Okay, do you want Daddy to carry you or do you want your walker?” Thomas was absolutely refusing to use the wheelchair a moment longer than he had to. In his adult headspace, he was fine with it, but Little, he wanted to explore everything.  
“Carry, please.” Thomas held his arms up.  
“Thank you for using your polite words,” Minho said as he picked him up. He was still far too light.  
“Welcome, Daddy.” Why were little kids so cute?  
“Minho, it’s good to see you again. And of course my darling little tiger.” Thomas growled at Lizzy playfully. They got Thomas settled in with Dr. Jazlyn before Lizzy pulled him aside.  
“What’s this I hear about you leaving Thomas with Clint?”  
“Gally and I have to go on a mission, we don’t get any choice in the matter. Don’t look at me like that, Lizzy. I forgot you were coming and Gally suggested Clint. I know Thomas would love to stay with you for a couple of days.”  
“Fine, I’ll watch him. It okay if I stay in your room?”  
“Yeah.” Lizzie had agreed far too quickly. Minho didn’t know what she was planning but he was sure he wasn’t going to like it very much.  
“I brought Thomas some toys, too, I know he doesn’t have many.” Lizzy grinned at him and Minho was reminded that she was only sixteen.  
“Minho, if you would come in?” Dr. Jazlyn leaned around the doorway. “I’ve been over everything with Thomas, but I’d like to make sure someone remembers it.”  
“Can Lizzy come? She’ll be taking care of him the next couple of days.”  
“Certainly. You’re the one who needs to give permission; you’re Thomas’s Caretaker.” Lizzy followed Minho into the room, and Dr. Jazlyn began her lecture.  
~*~  
Minho was going to kill Lizzie. He and Gally had just gotten back from their debriefings and a shower. They’d come back to a crazy, hyper little boy who just wouldn’t stop moving.  
“Hi Daddy! Hi Uncle Gally! Auntie Lizzy let me stay up late, and eat two desserts, and and and run around the training room and-” He wouldn’t stop and Minho was tired. So tired. Normally Thomas would ask questions like he breathed, but this was different. This was an excitable Little who wasn’t listening to his daddy.  
“Thomas, it’s time for bed,” Minho said. “Auntie Lizzy wasn’t supposed to let you stay up late, little bird, and now you have to go to bed at your normal time.” How had it gotten this bad. How. He’d been gone for two days.  
“I don’t want to, Daddy,” Thomas shouted.  
“Thomas, you know what happens to little boys who shout at Daddy,” Minho said.  
“They go to the naughty corner.” Thomas sulked over to the designated corner, where he stayed for five minutes before climbing into bed.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t go to bed when Daddy asked.” He sniffled when Minho came to tuck him in.  
“You’re forgiven, little bird. Come here.” Minho hugged Thomas before going to his own bed. “Goodnight, little bird.” He didn’t hear anything in return, but he hadn’t expected to. Thomas was already asleep.  
~*~  
If Minho had thought Little Thomas was bad about running, then he’d been duped. Big Thomas was so much worse.  
“Come on, Minho, a run will be good for me. Dr. Jazlyn said so.”  
“Fine. We’ll run two blocks at a minimum, four at a max. And you let me know if you need to stop.” At least he could put Little Thomas in timeout if he needed to. His sort-of boyfriend- not so much.  
“I’ve been here a year and a half, Minho, and I’ve barely done anything. Dr. Jazlyn says that I’m almost cleared for missions.”  
“Fine. We’ll run until you can’t run anymore, then we’re going to walk back.” Minho should not have said that, because they were now twenty blocks away from their headquarters, their home, and Thomas was still running. He was keeping pace with Minho, which was not something Minho had expected him to do for more than four blocks. And yet, Thomas was still running. He must have been very good before he broke his leg if he could do this after nothing but a lot of P.T., walking, and laps around the track. Unless he'd been running and Minho didn't know.  
"How are you still running?" Minho asked as they finally turned around.  
"I have really good endurance, I ran all the time for fun when I was younger and kept it up as I got older. I had run from Cranks a lot. And I've been running the blocks closer to HQ when you're on missions. This isn't the farthest I've gone, actually. Once I did twenty blocks and went inside and ran three miles on the track, just to see if I could."  
"Well, then, I guess you're ready for that race," Minho said. "Do you want to race from here back or wait until we get closer?"  
"My endurance isn't good enough to keep up with you at full speed for eighteen blocks. Let's wait until we get to four."  
"Deal," Minho said. "Shall we seal it with a kiss?" Thomas laughed.  
"No, Minho, we're both sweaty and gross."  
"What if I catch you?"  
"And what if I catch you?" Thomas raised his eyebrows. Minho laughed himself at that.  
"Let's slow down, pace ourselves a little better if we're going to race."  
"Good idea, Minho." They slowed to a fast jog. When they reached the four block mark, Thomas started counting.  
“3… 2… 1… Go!” They took off, Minho taking and keeping the lead for three blocks. Then Thomas caught him, grinned, and ran faster than Minho had ever seen him run. He beat Minho by almost a full block length.  
“How about that pie?” Thomas grinned and Minho melted inside. He’d give almost anything for this boy who had wormed his way through Minho’s walls.  
“As soon as it can be arranged, you’ll have it,” Minho promised. “Now, how about a shower?” Minho knew full well Thomas would say no; he shied away from anything that could imply sex. Minho had a feeling he knew why.  
"Why not? Just... let's not..." Thomas shrugged, then hid his face behind his hands.  
"We won't do anything you aren't comfortable with," Minho reassured him. If their lives had been normal, before the Flares, he had a feeling Thomas would still shy away from sex, and that was completely fine by him. “Let’s head up to our room, then.”  
~*~  
Minho was worried. Thomas was supposed to check in with him three hours ago. What if he’d slipped into a headspace, and was crying, wondering where his daddy was? What if he’d been shot, or was injured? This mission was a horrible idea. He knew why the higher-ups had chosen him to go with Thomas on his first mission- they were a Caregiver and Little set who worked well together in other situations and knew well enough to keep their emotions apart from the mission at hand. Usually. If Thomas and Minho hadn’t been a Caregiver and Little, rather just dating instead, they wouldn’t be here. Thomas would have been with Gally, or maybe Lizzy. But he wouldn’t be here, on this mission, with Minho. No, Minho would be worrying about him from HQ while he was away.  
“Minho!” He heard someone yell. “Minho, I got what we needed.” Thomas ran around the corner, lugging the packages. “I might have gotten in a fight or two to get it, but I got it!” When his relief wore off (or… just faded a little bit) Minho looked at his boyfriend. Split lip, wrist bent at an odd angle, darkening bruises here and there.  
“I’m glad you’re back, Thomas. You didn’t check in.”  
“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t. I meant to, but this took longer than I expected and then, well.”  
“It’s fine, Thomas. I know you can handle yourself, I just go to the worst situation possible whenever you’re late.”  
“I do the same with you, Minho. I get it. But we have everything now, right?” Minho checked his bags.  
“Yep.”  
“Then let’s get out of here. I want to get home and cuddle.” Minho grinned, feeling the warmth in his chest spread. Before Thomas, he had been more than a bit broken, and before Minho, Thomas had been a hell of a lot broken. Minho was happy to say that the wounds were closing, they were healing.  
Yeah, it had been a good three years.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Kudos, comments, they all are welcome. (But comments are my lifeblood)
> 
> See you tomorrow,  
> Phoenix


End file.
